


when you grow up.

by porcelainsimplicity



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainsimplicity/pseuds/porcelainsimplicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what happens if what you'd always dreamed of gets taken away from you?  you discover who you really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you grow up.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in a matter of hours. just flowed out of me.

when you were young enough  
doing all that fun kid stuff  
did you think of what you'd be?  
marco polo in the pool  
kickball games behind the school  
playing tag and hide 'n' seek  
when you grow up, what kind of boy will you be?  
oh, what will you be?

_when you grow up – priscilla ahn_

From the first moment his mother had ever put a tennis racquet in his hands, Andy had wanted to be a professional tennis player. He'd dreamed of it as a child, worked for it as a boy, and had so nearly achieved it as a teenager. Eighteen-years-old, had cracked the top one hundred and was nearing the top fifty, and then like a snap of fingers, it was over. It was just weeks into the new year when it happened, the hot, Australian sun shining down upon him, when he ran to his left during his first round match to chase down a sharp-angled forehand, and all he remembers after that is pain. Pain on the court when he tried to get back up and realized he couldn't move his leg without screaming; pain as the doctors and trainers tried to stabilize his knee; pain with every bump the ambulance made on its way to the hospital; pain of an entirely different sort when the doctor came to him after the surgery and quietly explained that while the surgery had been successful, the damage was too severe, and there was no possible way for him to ever play sport of any kind, let alone tennis, again. The news was heartbreaking, but he was undeterred. He went through months upon months of frustrating rehabilitation only to be told that the severely limited range of motion he'd regained was as good as it was going to get, and that he'd probably need the assistance of a cane or some sort of crutch for the rest of his life.

After that, he'd sworn he'd never set foot anywhere near a tennis court ever again. His mother was disappointed with his defeatist attitude, but his brother understood, and he was thankful for that because it made it easier to turn down invitation after invitation to join Jamie at this tournament or that Davis Cup tie. He'd kept living in the house Jamie had bought just outside London after the rehab was over, until summer had come and Wimbledon fever had gripped the nation, when moving back to Dunblane had suddenly seemed a much better idea than it had before. And he'd stayed in Dunblane until he realized that his short travels around the world had broadened his mind too much to be able to stay happy in his sleepy hometown, and decided that he needed adventure in his life, even if it no longer involved tennis. So he'd walked down to the store, ignoring the sympathetic looks from people he'd known his entire life, bought the biggest map he could find, and put it up on the wall when he got home. Then he searched the house for the darts that went with the board that hung on the back of the garage door, and once he found them, he stood across from the map and started throwing. 

The first dart landed in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and whilst drowning was appealing, it wasn't what he was searching for. The second dart landed in the middle of Antarctica, and while he'd always wanted to hang out with penguins, that wasn't what he was searching for either. The third dart landed in Australia, and upon closer inspection, right into the middle of the 'b' of Melbourne. He stared at it for what felt like hours, reached to pull the dart from the map a couple of times only to stop himself, and after careful deliberation – because after all, Melbourne was the city in which the injury had occurred – he made up his mind. Third dart it was. 

Three months later, Andy was living in a one bedroom flat just off the corner of Orr and Victoria, close to the University of Melbourne, where he was taking random classes to occupy his time and to please his mother, who felt that now that tennis was out of his life, he needed to get an education so that he could secure a real job some day. He spent his afternoons in local coffee shops or browsing the stores, and even though he was on the other side of the world from practically everything he'd ever known, he felt more alive than he had since he'd been on court that day nearly two years earlier. He didn't put much effort into making friends, and he let his connections with the friends he'd made on the tour slip away. He was isolating himself and he knew it, but he had decided that before anyone else could get to know him, he needed to get to know himself first.

When tennis fever hit the following January, he let Jamie talk him into coming down to meet him at Melbourne Park instead of making Jamie come to the flat. He decided on the train ride there that it was going to be delicious form of self-torture, and reminded himself that he always had loved to torture himself in the most excruciating of ways. He didn't expect to be recognized, but as he realized that the grounds were crawling with people that he once knew very well and people who had potentially once knew who he was, he had ducked into a souvenir shop and bought the first hat and pair of sunglasses that he could find. He wandered around, took in quallies on the outside courts and nearly collapsed from the heat, escaped underneath shade trees and nearly collapsed from the ache in his heart, the gut-wrenching, overpowering reminder that he could have been on one of those courts, playing one of those matches. And it was under one of those trees that someone dropped down to the ground next to him, set their racquet bag by their feet, and let out an all too familiar laugh.

“Did you really think the hat and sunglasses was going to work on someone like me?”

Someone like him. He wanted to say that yes, of all the people that could possibly be at Melbourne Park, he wanted his cheesy disguise to work most on someone like him, but instead he reached up and pulled the sunglasses off his face and turned to look Novak Djokovic in the eyes. “Fool the world number six? Not likely.”

“World number five,” Novak corrected, a brilliant smile on his face. “I moved up after winning Chennai.”

“Didn't know that,” Andy murmured, sliding his sunglasses back on and leaning back against the tree. “So to what do I owe this visit from the world number five?”

“I saw you wandering the grounds earlier and didn't believe it was you until Jamie told me that yeah, you were here, kicking it with the fans and trying to blend in. So I decided the next time I saw you, I would stop and ask why you haven't answered any of my emails in nearly a year.”

He felt his throat grow tight and dry. “I have my reasons.”

“Yeah. Jamie's told me. He's the one I go to whenever I want to know what's going on with you,” Novak said softly. “I want to hear it from you, Andy.”

“It's got nothing to do with you,” he said, his mind quickly realizing how Novak probably would have taken his silence. “It's just that anything to do with tennis hurts too much, so I stopped talking to all the players I knew except for Jamie, 'cause I kind of have to keep talking to him.”

“I thought that I was more than just another tennis player to you. Guess I was wrong,” Novak said quickly, abruptly grabbing his racquet bag and standing up. “Enjoy your life.”

Andy watched, confused and helpless, as Novak walked away from him and into the crowd of people, hearing the shrieks of 'Nole!' as the fans noticed his presence. And he remained confused when he saw Novak in the players' lounge the next day and the Serb wouldn't even look at him, and when it became obvious later that week that Novak was purposely ignoring him, and when Jamie told him that he was a daft idiot if he couldn't figure this out. So he decided to stay home from then on, because there was really no reason for him to be at Melbourne Park, and he really didn't like this cold shoulder treatment from someone who was once his friend, even if he could admit to himself that he probably deserved it.

Then Novak injured himself during practice. When Jamie called him and told him that the word in the players' lounge was that the injury was serious, he felt all of the emotions that he'd felt two years earlier come back to life. And when he finally got Marian to tell him what hospital and room Novak was in, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Novak had his head turned towards the window when he pushed the door open and walked in. He saw Novak's eyes flick to him quickly then flick back to the window, and when he didn't receive any sort of greeting, he wasn't surprised. Still he sat down on the chair next to the bed, propped his feet up on one of the metal bars that made up the bed's frame, and started to talk. “Have they said how serious it is yet?”

“Serious,” Novak said after several minutes, his voice tired and emotional. “Career-threatening, to be exact.”

“I'm sorry,” he said seriously. “I know how news like that feels.”

“It's my own fault,” Novak muttered. “I was arguing with Jamie about you and I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. Went over the advertising boards and stuck my arm out to catch myself, which of course just made it worse. Tore almost everything in my shoulder. No way I'm ever going to be able to serve again.”

Andy froze as Novak turned his head towards him, unable to do anything but make a strangled noise low in his throat. “What?” he eventually got out. 

“Jamie didn't tell you?”

“No.”

Novak sighed and shifted around on the bed, wincing when his shoulder moved the slightest bit. “I figured he would. Save me the trouble of having to explain myself.”

“When does Jamie save anyone the trouble of having to do anything themselves?” he asked, drawing a smile from Novak. 

“Good point.”

They sat in silence for several minutes until Andy realized that Novak obviously wasn't going to say any more. “So explain for me?”

“No.”

“No?”

“There's no point,” Novak said, yawning. “It's hopeless, and therefore, it's not important. Do you mind leaving?”

He was shocked by the abrupt end of another conversation, but he didn't want to upset Novak any more than he already was, and so he stood and walked towards the door. He paused when he got there, turning back to the bed and staring at Novak for a moment. “You are more than just another tennis player to me. I'm sure that you don't believe that, especially given how you're acting and what I've done, but it's the truth.”

“You're right. I don't believe you. Now leave, please.”

He thought about Novak the entire way home, and for the rest of the day, and for most of the night. He tried to push it out of his mind as he watched the tournament on television, and when he heard reports updating Novak's condition on the news, and when Jamie tried telling him that he was a daft idiot again. Months went by and not a day passed without Novak crossing his mind in some form, and eventually it got to be too much. He pushed his philosophy homework to the side and pulled his laptop across his thighs, signed into an email account he'd sworn he'd abandoned and found four hundred and seventy-nine emails from Novak in his inbox. And because he loved to torture himself, he read each and every one of them, took in the tone as it went from friendly to flirtatious to worried to scared to annoyed to angry, and by the time he'd read every last word, he finally understood what it was Novak had meant that day underneath the tree. 

Three days later, after discovering Novak was back in Serbia for rehabilitation and it wasn't going very well, after drinking half a fifth of vodka to get up the courage, after drinking the other half to convince himself he really needed to tell him the truth, he signed into the email account again and finally sent a response. 

He wasn't surprised when weeks went by without him getting one back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Christmas time in Melbourne was different to Christmas time back home, but Andy loved every second of the warmth and the sun instead of the cold and the clouds. He managed to get out of going home to Dunblane for the holiday by lying to his mother about plans with some non-existent friends to go to Malaysia, and he was wandering around the central business district on Christmas eve trying to decide what he was going to barbecue the next day when he spotted the man sitting at a table outside one of his favorite cafés in a hat emblazoned with the Serbian colors and coat of arms. And there may have been a lot of Serbians in Melbourne, but Andy was absolutely certain that he knew exactly who that one was. So he wandered over to the café and sat down at a table close to the one the Serbian was sitting at, and he waited for him to look up from the newspaper he was intently reading. He finally did when a waitress approached his table, and before his eyes could look up far enough to see the girl's pretty face, they'd locked with his and Andy discovered that he had been right.

The waitress walked away a few minutes later and the newspaper stayed on the table, and no matter how much he could tell that Novak wanted to tear his eyes away, he never did. Eventually the small tilt of his head came, and Andy stood up and walked over to the other table, sitting down across from Novak and getting a proper look at him. He looked tired and weary, a little sunburned, and like he couldn't decide whether to be happy to see Andy or to get up and walk away. Eventually Novak picked the newspaper back up, and the waitress returned with two cups of flat white, and he must have looked startled because Novak couldn't hide his chuckle underneath his breath. They drank their coffee in near silence, Novak commenting every once and awhile on something he had just read, Andy responding with what he knew on the subject from the nightly news. When their drinks were finished and Novak was done reading the back page, Novak stood up and tossed money onto the table before meeting his gaze once more. “Your place? I'm staying with Ana and her family, and this might get a bit uncomfortable with all of them around.”

“Alright.”

The short walk to the flat was in the same semi-silence that they'd felt comfortable with at the café, Novak commenting on things as they walked past, Andy answering questions when he could. Novak gave himself a tour of the flat once they arrived, walking around the small space as Andy went into the kitchen and made some tea. He didn't know how the conversation was going to go, wasn't sure how he wanted the conversation to go, and figured he would start with a safe subject, like finding out what Novak was doing with Ana and her family in Melbourne for Christmas. He finished making the tea and turned to find Novak leaning in the kitchen doorway, his eyes clouded with something that Andy couldn't recognize. 

“Did you mean what you wrote in that email?”

He'd said a lot of things in that email, things that he wasn't sure he'd be able to admit to now that Novak was there in front of him, so he decided to play it safe. “I did. We were always friends, Nole. It wasn't your friendship I was escaping, it was tennis. And friends or not, you were part of my tennis life.”

“I didn't understand,” Novak said, shaking his head. “I didn't understand how you could force me away, how you could just ignore what our relationship had been. And then it happened to me, and now I understand perfectly. It wasn't me, it was tennis. But there's a difference between you and me, Andy. You pushed me out of your life, but I still want you in mine.”

Andy backed up against the counter as Novak stepped into the tiny room, swallowing hard as the Serbian got so close to him they were practically touching. “What does that mean?”

“It means Jamie always knew my biggest secret,” Novak murmured. “It means he always tried to get me to tell you because he was convinced you felt the same. But I wasn't. I never was, not until I got that email.”

He gasped as Novak's hands latched onto his hips, muttering under his breath about stupid older brothers and why he should have never confided in Jamie about that of all things. “I had my reasons for never telling you.”

“And I had my reasons for never telling you,” Novak said softly. “But number one on that list was tennis, and tennis isn't a factor for us anymore, Andy. All the other reasons seem insignificant in comparison to what could be.”

“But...”

“But nothing. We're private citizens now, Andy, out of the public eye. It's no one's business but our own what we do.”

He shuddered as Novak pulled him flush against him, fingers threading through his hair. “Nole......I've never......”

“Neither have I. Never wanted it with anyone but you,” Novak said, meeting Andy's eyes with his own. “May I kiss you?”

He barely nodded before Novak's lips were on his, soft and gentle. The kiss deepened quickly and Andy melted into Novak's embrace, his brain screaming at him for denying himself this for so, so long. It wasn't long before they were clinging to each other, reason abandoned for passion and madness, and he forgot about everything in the world except for the man in front of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was dark when Andy awoke, startled by the fact that someone else was sitting on the end of his bed until he made out Novak's silhouette and remembered the events of the afternoon. “What are you doing?”

“Just letting Ana know where I am,” Novak said softly. “I believe she just squealed via text message.”

“So she knows?”

“Yeah, she knows. She made me tell her why I was so nervous on the flight down here. She thought it had something to do with her and was trying to let me down gently!”

Andy laughed softly and sat up, moving closer to Novak and wrapping himself around his back. “Why are you here with her anyway?”

“I needed to get out of Serbia before I killed myself,” Novak said, laughing slightly. “I'm only half exaggerating there. I've been debating whether or not to come to Melbourne and track you down ever since I went to Dunblane to see you and Judy told me that you now lived here.”

“She never told me you did that.”

“I know, I asked her not to. I viewed it as a sign that this just wasn't meant to happen, but a couple weeks after I got back to Belgrade, Ana asked if I wanted to get away from everything and spend the holiday here with her family. She's as disgusted by the looks I get as I am.”

Andy rested his head on the back of Novak's shoulder and sighed. “I couldn't stand the looks in Dunblane. And sometimes people would say things too. 'I'm sorry son,' or 'We really thought you'd be the one to break the slam drought,' or the occasional 'Are you sure there's nothing that can be done to get you back on court?' I hated it. So I left.”

“Nobody ever says anything to me. Just stares at me like I've let the entire country down. As if I had some sort of a choice in the matter. Kind of makes me never want to go back there.” Novak tossed his phone onto the floor and turned around so he was facing Andy, kissing him softly. “When I got Ana's invitation to come here, it felt like the world was wanting me to give this another chance. So I said yes, and I've been hanging out at cafés near your flat ever since I got Jamie to tell me where it was. Today was apparently my lucky day to find you.”

“You could have just come over.”

“I wanted it to be natural, not forced. If this was meant to happen, you would find me. And you did.”

Andy shook his head lightly, pressing a hand to Novak's cheek. “You can be a little strange sometimes, Nole. But I like it.”

Novak shifted further onto the bed and pulled Andy down into his embrace, smiling when he felt his arm slide across his waist. “I did a lot of thinking about what could possibly happen here before I got on the plane. I was either going to come to Australia and find happiness, or end up on a plane back to Serbia with a broken heart. I really, really wanted the first option, but I had to be aware that the second option was a reality. Of course, that didn't stop me from doing some happy daydreaming. If I was going to come here and end up with the first option, then I was going to need a plan.”

“And your plan consisted of waiting at cafés and hoping that I might show up there.”

“No,” Novak said, shaking his head. “That's not the plan I'm talking about. I'm talking about the plan for what happens now.”

Andy shifted onto his side and propped his head up with his hand, staring down at his new lover. “What does happen now?”

“I don't want to be away from you,” Novak said softly, reaching up and playing with Andy's unruly curls. “If I go back to Serbia, I'll not only be away from you, I'll be thousands of miles away from you. I can't handle that. I've been thinking about leaving Serbia for awhile now, and so I think that it would be best for me to move here.”

Andy put his hand on Novak's chest. “Nole, we've slept together once. That's not a reason to move halfway around the world.”

“It's more than that,” Novak said, tangling his fingers together with Andy's on his chest. “Yes, that's all that has happened, but...”

“But we have barely spoken to one another for three years, Nole. A lot more needs to happen before moving halfway around the world for one another should be considered an option.”

“Andy......”

“You're the one who's talking about wanting this to be natural and not forced. I've seen what happens when people rush into things and they don't work,” Andy said quietly. “I made myself a promise that I would never rush into things like that. And I'm holding myself to that promise even more so with you, Nole. You're special, and I know that if we give this the proper amount of time to develop naturally, then it's going to turn into the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. But I'm not going to let us ruin it by moving too fast.”

Novak sighed heavily and brought Andy's hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. “So what do you think happens next then?”

“I think that we enjoy the rest of the time that you're going to spend here. I have no idea when it is that you're leaving. And then, six weeks after you do, I'll get on a plane and come to Belgrade, or wherever it is that you are by then. And we'll go from there.”

“Six weeks!”

“Yes, six weeks,” Andy said seriously. “We need time to think things through.”

“I've had years to think about this.”

“You know what I mean, Nole. I'm the first to admit that I'm not the same person I was when I was playing tennis, and I think if you took time to think about it, you'd realize you're a different person too.” Andy shifted closer to Novak and bent to press a kiss to his lips. “We need to get to know each other all over again.”

Novak stared up at him for a moment before pulling Andy into a deep kiss, rolling him onto his back and ending the conversation. Andy was half-annoyed until Novak pulled back and whispered, “Fine, we'll do it your way. And I'm not leaving until Ana does.” Then he wasn't annoyed at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He hadn't thought that he'd be so emotional when Novak eventually left, but when he returned to his flat after seeing him off at the airport, Andy found the silence deafening and the loneliness crushing. The texts and emails and phone calls eased the all-encompassing feelings for a short time, but after a couple of weeks, Andy was ready to get on a plane and fly to where Novak was. Novak stopped that plan before Andy could even put it into motion, reminding Andy of what they had agreed to and saying that the time apart had made him realize just how necessary sticking to that pact was.

“I want to be in love with you for the rest of my life,” one text message said. “I don't want to give you up after a few months.”

So they agreed on a date for Andy to fly to Belgrade, and he marked the days off on his calendar like a sixteen-year-old girl would do, and when he finally was stepping off of the plane, the sight of Novak's bright smile made every second of the six weeks worthwhile. 

They didn't leave Novak's apartment for two days, reacquainting themselves with the level of physical intimacy they had enjoyed before Novak had left Melbourne. And when they finally ventured outside, Andy got a tour of the town that had turned Novak into the person he was, from the house they had lived in when he was born to the tennis courts where Novak had first picked up a racquet, and he noticed how almost everything was referenced in the past tense. 

They were standing near the banks of the Sava river when Andy finally said what had been on his mind for the past few days. “You're really done with this place, aren't you?”

“What?”

“I realized I was done with Dunblane when I started thinking about things in the past tense. 'That was the pub I grew up thinking I'd drink in,' or 'I had always thought I'd play with my children in this park someday.' Stuff like that. And that's how you've been talking to me about things for the last few days. Like they won't happen, at least not here.”

Novak sighed heavily and took Andy by the hand, walking him towards a bench and then sitting down on it. “I feel like I don't belong here anymore. It's got nothing to do with my family or my friends, it's just...”

“You've seen the world and it's hard to settle for what you've always known,” Andy finished for him, waiting for Novak to nod in acquiescence before continuing. “That's how I felt about Dunblane, and why I had to get away from there.”

“Why did you pick Melbourne?”

“Honestly? I put a map up on the wall and threw darts at it until one landed in a city, and that city happened to be Melbourne.”

Novak laughed. “That's one way of doing it, I suppose.”

“How do you plan on doing it?” Andy asked softly. 

Novak smiled. “I've got the names of major cities around the world written on popsicle sticks. Just need someone to hold them for me so I can close my eyes and pick one. I kind of thought that you might be willing to help me with that.”

“You know I will.”

Novak let go of Andy's hand and dug into his pocket, pulling out a stack of popsicle sticks held together by a rubber band. “Then let's do this.”

“You have them with you?” Andy asked, amused. 

“I was planning on doing this today,” Novak said, flashing Andy a smile. “You beat me to it.”

Andy took the sticks from Novak and started to undo the rubber band. “Am I allowed to ask if Melbourne is written on one of these?”

“Yes, it is.”

“We should take it out.”

“No,” Novak said seriously. “It has to be considered a possibility, and it's a random draw. If I choose it from amongst the thirty-five or so other choices there, then that's where I'm meant to be going next.”

Andy looked through the sticks, seeing familiar city names like London, Paris, Moscow, Tokyo, and New York. “I suppose that's fair,” he said, fanning the sticks out and turning towards Novak “Alright, close your eyes and pick one.”

Novak turned towards Andy and closed his eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before reaching out and choosing a stick from the right side. He held it out without opening his eyes. “You look first.”

Andy collapsed the remaining sticks into one hand before taking the one Novak had chosen with the other, choking back a laugh when he saw what city was written on it. “Well, it's not Melbourne, but it's a hell of a lot closer to Melbourne than here.”

Novak opened his eyes and saw the smile on Andy's face. “Where?”

Andy took the stick and turned it so Novak could read what was written on it. _Sydney._

Novak took the stick from Andy's grasp and smiled. “Is this alright?”

“Well, I think we may have to revise the six weeks in between seeing one another if you're going to be that close,” Andy said seriously before breaking out into a grin. “But that is more than alright as far as I'm concerned.”

“You'll have to help me find a place to live,” Novak said, taking the popsicle sticks from Andy's hand. 

“I can do that,” Andy said softly, glancing around. “You want to go back to your place and celebrate?”

Novak quickly stood up and pulled Andy with him. “I think that's the best suggestion you've made all day.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Care to explain to me why the love of your life is living in Sydney when you are living in Melbourne?”

Andy groaned into the phone. “Care to explain to me why you're not preparing for the final of a slam? How the hell did you make it to the final of the French anyway?”

“I was smart enough to play with someone who knows how to play on clay, of course. And yes, Nenad and I are preparing. It was during that preparation that he says to me, 'hey, did you hear Nole moved to Sydney?' and I had no clue. I wanted to say something about it being because of you, but don't worry, I refrained. And don't think that I didn't just notice that there was no denying that Novak is the love of your life, by the way, 'cause I totally did.”

“You're an idiot.”

“No, I am a concerned older brother wondering why the fuck you're still being a daft idiot.”

Andy collapsed onto his sofa and reached for his history textbook. “I'm not being a daft idiot. Nole and I are doing perfectly fine. We're just taking it slowly.”

“He just moved halfway around the world for you.”

“He did not move halfway around the world for me. He moved halfway round the world because he needed to get the fuck out of Belgrade before he went insane, and he randomly picked Sydney much like I randomly picked Melbourne.”

“But if he was going to go all the way to Sydney, why didn't he just go the extra few hundred miles and settle into his rightful place in your bed?”

Andy settled the book in his lap and switched which side of his head he had the phone against. “Okay, first, you saying shit like that is disturbing. And second, I'm determined not to fuck this up, Jamie, so I am forcing us to take things slowly.”

“There is no possible way that you can fuck this up. You two have been in love with each other for ages. You have no idea how happy I was to hear that you finally did something about it.”

Andy sucked in a deep breath as he flipped through the book to the page where he needed to start reading. “I don't want it to end up like Mum and Dad, alright?”

Jamie stayed silent for a few minutes. “Andrew.”

“Don't Andrew me. I'm serious.”

“You and Novak are not Mum and Dad. You and Novak are not going to become Mum and Dad. This is not something you should be worrying about.”

Andy sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the cushion. “You don't understand. I'm genetically programmed for relationship failure. And so are you.”

“No, you don't understand. That's the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever heard, Andrew. Genetically programmed for relationship failure? Do you know how hard Mum would hit you if she heard you say that? Yes, her and Dad didn't work out. No, that doesn't mean you are incapable of having a healthy, successful relationship.”

“Jamie...”

“No, you listen to me, moron. You love him, or do I have that completely wrong?”

It took Andy a moment to answer, the realization that he'd never said it aloud hitting him hard. “I love him.”

“You love him, and you are more than willing to work to keep a hold of him, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“Then that's what you need to concentrate on. Forget Mum and Dad, forget about me and my past girlfriends, forget about anything that has to do with being genetically programmed for relationship failure. Concentrate on Novak and the fact that you love him, and I promise you that good things will happen.”

Andy thought about Jamie's words until he heard his brother cough and ask if he was still there. “You really think Nole and I are going to work out?”

“I don't think it, I know it.”

“How can you possibly know it?”

“Stop questioning everything and just go with it! As long as you two want it to work, it will work. Trust me.”

“Fine.”

“Though to be honest, I don't know what he sees in you. Everyone knows that I am the more talented, more handsome, and more intelligent of the Murray brothers. Not that I'm gay all of the sudden or anything.” 

“Jamie?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Six weeks became a month. A month became three weeks. Three weeks became two. And before Andy even realized it, they were alternating taking the one and a half hour flight each weekend to see each other. Sydney. Melbourne. Sydney. Melbourne. Sydney, then Sydney again because Novak wanted to take him to a concert, followed by two weekends in Melbourne to make up for disrupting the pattern, and so on. Andy settled on majoring in physiology and focused on being a full-time student. Novak took surfing lessons and trekked his way up and down the beaches of New South Wales searching for the best waves. And every time they were together, Novak would tell Andy how much he loved him, and Andy would do no more than nod in response.

So when he walked out of class on a rainy day and found Novak leaning against his car, soaked to the skin, Andy wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. It was a Monday, and he had just been in Sydney the day before, taking a nighttime flight back and barely getting any sleep before class just so that he could spend as much time as possible with Novak, and Novak was supposed to be headed up to the Gold Coast that day with some friends for another surfing adventure. Still he walked over to him, moved his umbrella so that they were both shielded by it, and gave Novak a gentle kiss. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Is it?”

Something about the tone of Novak's voice made Andy pause, staring at him for a few minutes before he felt like he could speak again. “What's wrong?”

“I was hoping you'd be able to tell me that.”

“You are making absolutely no sense.”

“Ten months, Andy. Ten months since we started this, and I realized as I watched you walk away from me in the airport last night that I have absolutely no idea how you feel about me.”

Andy sighed heavily and glanced around, noticing that some of his fellow students were staring at them. “How about we take this back to my place, hm? Too many people around.”

“Fine,” Novak said sharply, waiting until Andy had unlocked the car before pulling the door open roughly and getting inside. 

Andy stood there for a moment before taking a deep breath and tossing his backpack and umbrella into the backseat, climbing into the driver's seat and shutting the door. “I get that you're mad at me, but can you please try to not pull the door off its hinges?”

“I am not capable of that. My shoulder is not strong enough.”

“Your shoulder was strong enough to hold me up against the wall while you fucked me yesterday morning, so I disagree.”

Novak turned his head towards the window as Andy backed out of his parking spot. “I don't fuck you. I make love to you.”

Andy knew better than to disagree with that sentiment, and the drive back to his flat was silent but for the soft hum of the radio. When he pulled into his designated parking space, the rain had turned into a downpour, and he turned off the car but made no move to get out of it. “Let's stay in here till the rain lets up a bit.”

“Fine.”

He shifted around in his seat so that he was looking at Novak, who was still resolutely staring out of the window. “There is absolutely nothing I can say that could even begin to make up for the fact that I haven't told you how I feel, but I have my reasons.”

“I'm not sure I want to hear them.”

“You wouldn't have come all the way here if you didn't want to. You would have just called me tonight like always and gone on pretending that everything was fine when it clearly isn't.”

Novak huffed but didn't say anything, so Andy took that as a sign to continue.

“The thought of being in love terrifies me,” he admitted softly. “It's got absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I think of love and all I can think about is my parents. And if them splitting up hurt me that much, I can't even begin to fathom how much me splitting up with someone I love would hurt. So I spent a lot of time as a kid convincing myself that the only thing I'd ever be in love with was tennis, and look at how well that worked out. But now there's you, and I......I'm struggling with it.”

Novak turned to look at Andy, shifting around when he saw the distress on his face. “I don't want our relationship to be a struggle for you, Andy.”

“It's not,” Andy said seriously. “Our relationship is amazing. It's this inner battle between what my heart keeps telling my brain and what my brain keeps telling me that's the struggle. I thought I'd have it figured out before you confronted me about it, but I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry, Nole. You deserve better than this.”

Novak reached into the backseat and grabbed the umbrella, opening his door and climbing out of the car. “Let's go inside.” Andy stayed in the car until Novak walked around and opened his door, holding out his hand. “Come on, Andy. I need to get out of these wet clothes.”

Andy glanced at his backpack before deciding to leave it, and he took Novak's hand and let him pull him out of the car. Once the door was closed, Novak backed him up against it, bringing their lips together in a hard kiss. They stayed locked together for several minutes, content with the familiar weight of each other's bodies and the recognizable touch of each other's hands. The umbrella was dropped to the ground as Novak wrapped his arms around Andy's waist, and even though the rain was cold and he was rapidly getting as soaked as Novak already was, Andy felt like he was on fire. 

He broke the kiss long enough to whisper that they should go inside, and then they were edging their way towards the door of Andy's flat, small steps up over curbs and around the landscaping in such a precise manner that Andy took a moment to ponder how many times they'd done that before. He scrambled to get the door unlocked once they reached it, and they fell into the apartment when the door suddenly opened, landing with a soft thud on the floor. Novak broke out into a laugh as Andy shifted around so he could kick the door shut, and then their lips were together again, hands moving across wet, slick skin, and Andy knew where this was headed but it just didn't feel right.

He rolled Novak onto his back and straddled his hips, sitting up straight and looking down at the flushed face of his lover. “Nole, I love you. I really do. It motherfucking terrifies me, but I do.”

Novak reached up and pulled Andy back down to him, kissing him softly. “That's all I needed to hear,” he whispered. “All I needed to know.”

Andy was about to suggest that they move over to the bed when something occurred to him, and he quickly scrambled off of Novak and opened the door again, plucking the keys out of the lock, prompting Novak to burst out laughing. Andy could barely hold back a laugh of his own, and he waved Novak towards the bed. “Go get comfortable, hm? I've got to go lock the car and pray that my umbrella hasn't blown away. I'll be right back.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When tennis fever hit Australia again, Andy was determined to stay blind to it, but his mother, his brother, and his boyfriend had different ideas. First, he was tricked into going to the tournament in Sydney by his mother, who had called and said she wanted the four of them to have dinner together while Jamie was playing that week and had arranged everything with Novak, and when he had asked Novak where they were supposed to be meeting his family, Novak had only smiled and then driven him straight to the tournament site. And after that first day at the tournament, no one was willing to let him get away with not coming back, so he and Novak ended up sitting next to Judy in the players' box for every one of Jamie's matches. And maybe if Jamie was still playing with Nenad, the newspapers wouldn't have spent so much time wondering why Novak Djokovic was sitting in Jamie Murray's players' box, chatting with Jamie's mother and brother as though he was a member of the family. But Jamie was playing with Mahesh Bhupathi now, and the newspapers wrote a lot about the eventual Sydney champions that week, and Andy used every single reference to Novak in every single article in every single paper as a reason to why he was definitely not going to the Australian Open.

But no one was listening to him, and he ended up sitting in between Novak and his mother in Jamie's players' box at the Australian Open, and of course the newspapers and the television stations and the blogs all picked up on it. Jamie was asked about it in a press conference after their quarterfinal victory, and Andy had nearly punched him when he found out that Jamie's response had been that Novak was like a brother to him. He refused to go for the semifinal, instead watching at home on television as the cameras zoomed in on where his mother and his boyfriend were sitting next to each other and listened as the commentators failed miserably at trying to recall just how close of friends the two of them had been during their playing days. 

He found himself courtside for the doubles final a couple of days later, staring down at the court he'd once played on and realizing that he no longer felt that gut-wrenching, overpowering ache that reminded him that he could have been on that court playing. When he looked over at Novak, he didn't see any of that ache in his eyes either, just genuine love and affection reflected back at him, and that's when he finally realized that they'd helped each other move on. For the first time in four years, he enjoyed a tennis match in the way that he used to, when they were little kids and Jamie was playing in a tournament that he wasn't old enough to play in yet, and he cheered and laughed and nearly cried when they won just because of the unbridled joy on his older brother's face. And during their celebrations at a local bar later that night, when a more-than-slightly drunk Novak grabbed a more-than-slightly drunk Andy and kissed him, he didn't think about pulling away; he just kissed him back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Months later, thanks to the multiple pictures of them kissing that were floating around the internet and the more-than-a-little-creepy information gathering that strangers hiding behind usernames had done, the true nature of their relationship was an open secret. Every time a friend of his sent him the latest blog post full of amateur pictures of the two of them, Andy got stroppy and nearly threw his laptop against the wall. But a gentle hand would wrap around his elbow to hold his arm in place, and the laptop would be taken from his grasp and set aside, and Novak would sweep in and kiss him soundly, distracting him from the fact that their notion that they'd be private citizens hadn't quite worked out the way that they'd thought it would.

He'd plucked up the courage to ask Novak about moving in together about three months earlier, and he was certain that he'd never made the Serbian happier than he had in that moment. Novak's stuff was moved from his place in Sydney into a new flat in Melbourne, one big enough for them to share, and they'd settled into a domestic life that Andy had never thought he'd be happy with. They alternated cooking dinner and washing up the dishes, made a game out of who could fold laundry the fastest, and relaxed in front of the television every Sunday morning to watch whatever live sport was being broadcast that day. They had date night twice a week, bought season tickets to the local Aussie rules football team, and while Andy worked on his degree, Novak volunteered at a local tennis center, teaching young children, most of whom were of Slavic descent and idolized his every move, how to play. 

Sometimes, out of nowhere, Novak would say, “I want to have you forever,” and Andy would respond with “You can have me any time you want,” and then they'd share a look across the room and nothing more would need to be said.

On the day of Andy's graduation from university, before Novak left with Judy and Jamie to head to the venue, he stuffed an envelope into Andy's hand with a cheeky smile. Andy opened it in his car, pulling out a brightly-decorated card that only Novak could have picked out. _Now that you've graduated..._ read the front, _it's time to decide what you want to be when you grow up_ written inside. Andy stuffed it into his pocket and kept it there, running his fingers over the card's edges as he nervously waited for his name to be called out during the ceremony. The card stayed in his pocket throughout the celebratory dinner that night, and throughout the celebratory drinks afterward, and when he was finally alone with Novak in their flat at the end of the day, he pulled it out and waved it in front of his boyfriend's face. “Nice sentiment, but I already know what I want to be when I grow up.”

“And what is that?”

“With you.”


End file.
